


Kiss me (in the shadows)

by Lilibet



Series: October 2020 prompts [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Flufftober 2020, M/M, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet
Summary: He is too busy exploring the expanse of soft skin before him to realise when Obi-Wan wakes, eyes closed, but aware, enjoying the tender touches bestowed upon his tired skin.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: October 2020 prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949062
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	Kiss me (in the shadows)

**Author's Note:**

> For the Flufftober 2020 day 1 prompt "In the shadows". I hope you enjoy!

Moonlight wakes Qui-Gon in the middle of the night, bright and luminous and pulling him from sleep far too easily for how tired he feels. He turns his head away, rolling over and away from the offending light, but he knows it’s futile. Much to his chagrin, it has always been far easier for him to wake than to fall into sleeps waiting arms. He hears Obi-Wan breathing slowly beside him, his breaths gentle like waves lapping at the shore of a beach.

When he manages to crack an eye open, he looks over to Obi-Wan. He’s bare from the waist up, half-hidden beneath the sheets that pool at his waist. His face is relaxed in sleep, and he smiles at the sight of him. It has taken them so long to get here, to work through the scars caused by Naboo, the training of Anakin, and the first tumultuous years of Obi-Wan’s knighthood.

Then the war began.

There has hardly been any time to breathe between one thing ending and another beginning. But somehow, against the odds, they made it. And occasionally, against even higher odds, he can actually convince Obi-Wan to take a break between endless missions for the council.

Qui-Gon reaches a tentative hand out, strokes the soft hair of Obi-Wan’s eyebrow and down the plane of his face, traces along his cheekbone with a feather-light touch and comes to rest under his bottom lip.

He doesn’t want to wake him, not yet, is content to wait in the shadows and watch his beloved slumber in a way he’s so rarely allowed these days. But he can’t resist touching him, ghosting his fingertips down his neck, sweeping up a collarbone and down his arm. Obi-Wan is like a magnet and Qui-Gon but metal shards inexorably drawn to him.

He is too busy exploring the expanse of soft skin before him to realise when Obi-Wan wakes, eyes closed, but aware, enjoying the tender touches bestowed upon his tired skin.

It is dream-like, the quiet night air cocooning them away from intrusions of the outside world. They are together here, alone, truly, for the first time in what feels like an eternity. It had stretched out before them for months, both occupying opposite sides of the galaxy, passing like ships in the night.

Obi-Wan would dream of this. Slow, casual touches. An easy intimacy speaking of the love binding them together. Hard-won, but forever worth it when they are gifted with moments like this. He luxuriates in it, breathing in the warmth when Qui-Gon shifts closers and drapes an arm over his waist, fingers dragging and tapping down the knobs of his spine as he cuddles closer to rest his lips against Obi-Wan’s forehead.

He smiles, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in the warm smell of his master, bathing in the heat this human furnace produces. He feels fingertips drawing nonsensical patterns along his back and he can’t help but sigh aloud. He feels Qui-Gon’s lips curl into a smile.

“Sleep, Obi-Wan,”

He feels more than hears Qui-Gon’s murmur and reaches to tangle a hand into his hair. Qui-Gon obliges the silent demand, slowly pressing a kiss to his forehead, both cheeks, and the tip of his nose.

Obi-Wan huffs a breath and tugs at his hair in disappointment, wanting his lips. Qui-Gon chuckles lowly, pleased with his teasing. Obi-Wan isn’t, but he’s too tired to do anything other than pout like a small child, not having even opened his eyes from sleep yet, and not planning on it.

Qui-Gon takes pity on him and slides a hand round the back of his neck, sliding his fingers into his hair, and angles his face to bring their lips together. The kiss is a slow as molasses, open-mouthed, deep and drugging. Qui-Gon licks into his mouth and Obi-Wan shivers and melts against him, a small moan sounding as Qui-Gon kisses him with such a focused intensity for the dead of night.

Qui-Gon loses track of time kissing Obi-Wan. He could kiss him for the rest of his life and it would still never be enough, an addictive drug he can never get enough of after that first fateful taste.

A hand grips his hip, fingers digging into the skin and Qui-Gon wants it harder. He wants Obi-Wan to leave bruises wrapped over his bones, he wants to take a part of him away with him, an essence that he can look at and feel the ache of to remind himself that this is real. That Obi-Wan wants to possess him as much as Qui-Gon does him, that both of them cannot get enough of each other, that this existence will never be enough and not even eternity would be able to quench the inferno of need he has for this man.

But that is not for now. There will be time for that later, when they are both rested and revitalised and they can christen the few remaining surfaces of their quarters. He will have Obi-Wan again and again, and Obi-Wan him, until they are both wrung out and sated.

The kiss slows. He can feel Obi-Wan slipping closer to sleep and pulls back to tuck him back against his neck, returning his fingers to Obi-Wan’s spine.

Obi-Wan blindly follows Qui-Gon’s hands, snuggling into his warmth to plant a sloppy kiss on the collarbone in front of him. His thoughts are sluggish and slow, sleep mere moments away from claiming him.

He has just enough mental awareness to realise that Qui-Gon’s fingers aren’t tapping a mindless rhythm on his spine, but a message. It’s in their secret language, developed when he was a padawan to communicate on missions when they couldn’t speak, the same phrase slowly repeated over again.

_I love you._

He only just has enough strength to touch Qui-Gon’s cheek, brushing his fingers against his beard.

Qui-Gon understands his meaning, nonetheless.

_I love you too._


End file.
